


Geboren On Christmas Eve

by WriteMeow2



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Movie: Die Hard, Mpreg, Some Humor, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMeow2/pseuds/WriteMeow2
Summary: Geboren (meaning born). Hans and his men overtake the Nakatomi Plaza. With an impending birth and NY cop hot on their trail, the German utilizes his condition in hopes to stay the course. But, will it pay off? Warning for mpreg! RIP Alan Rickman. Chapter 5 finally up!
Comments: 17
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

_First crack at writing a Die Hard story. Not sure how long I want to make it, I'm thinking 5 chapters. I've also omitted Argyle, and the walkie-talkie conversations between Sgt. Powell and John. As I felt this was filler material and didn't add much to the plot itself. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Not much effected the hardened New York City cop. But the moment he foolishly snapped at his estranged wife, Holly, just when they were starting to get along, hit him like an unforgiving punch to the gut. All because she signed her checks with her maiden name of Gennaro. He watches as she briskly walks out the door to give her speech to an awaiting mass of Christmas Eve party-goers of the Nakatomi Plaza in LA.

McClane gives a heavy sigh, running a calloused thumb delicately over the worn sleeve of his his billfold. Containing a small, scribbled note from his children, beside it, a photo of his daughter. Smiling warmly. All-the-while, he is completely unaware of what was unfolding just a floor below him. Two men of a high profile German terrorist group, enter the lobby. One acting as distraction, as the other snuffs out the front desk security guard. Theo, their cyber hacker, went to work disabling all main elevators, apart from the service.

Meanwhile Karl, their leader's second in command. Shoots and kills a second guard with a silenced pistol. This allowing clearance for the others to enter. "We're in" Theo radio's fellow group member, Heinrich. Whom, once got word, eased the Pacific Courier truck into the loading dock of the underground garage.

Within minutes, their leader, Hans Gruber, accompanied by the remaining henchmen disembark. He and fellow terrorist, Eddie, join the men in the lobby. Karl is thrown a duffle bag and given orders to join his younger brother, Tony, to sabotage the Plaza's telephone lines. Hans keeps firm hold of the building's key card.

"Geh schnell!"

Gruber commands sternly. The fair-haired German quickened his pace towards the downstairs junction boxes. As Hans neared the door, he stops for a moment. The corner of his mouth forming into a brief small smile. Parting his gray trench coat slightly, as a hand lightly caressed his gravid middle. There was, of course, skepticism and hesitation amongst his men, initially. Having a heavily pregnant leader at the helm of the operation, could possibly spell death for all thirteen of them.

However, they worked too hard to turn back now. The $640 mil. in bearer bonds within the Nakatomi vault was well within their reach. So long as they didn't divert from the course. Hans waited several seconds with the card pressed firmly against the scanner. Unwittingly smiling once more as he felt his daughter's tiny foot nudge the palm of his hand. Once accessed, he tosses it to Eddie, whom now is manning the desk and tucks the card inside his suit jacket.

Gruber gives a nod towards Theo, his cue to cut down the hall ahead of him. Meanwhile, the brothers went to work severing the lines. As Tony sifted through the migraine-inducing bundle of cords, clamping them off and setting the timed device to disable it. Karl emerges, giving an almost devilish grin from behind his face shield as he revved up the chainsaw.

"Nein! Nein! Nein!, Scheißekopf!"

Tony growled. Beads of sweat running down his forehead as he very nearly got the last wire clamped, before his older brother went hog-wild and harshly tore through the junction poles like a hot knife through butter.

* * *

Just as McClane had touched base with his precinct back home. He was perplexed when the line mysteriously went dead. Back on the lobby floor, Hans and the others board the service elevator. Their sub-machine guns close, and at the ready, as the lift ascended towards the 30th floor. It announcing their arrival with a classic ding. The men slowly step out, surveying the crowds of people.

"Hello?"

McClane exclaimed, his tone conveying the same amount of confusion. Just as he held the phone to his ear, once more, the sharp sound of gunfire erupts, followed abruptly by screaming. He gathers his gun off the bathroom floor, rushing towards the front and peeking through a crack in the door. Absolute chaos unfolding, as heavily armed men swept the area. Forcibly clearing the frightened office workers from their rooms. Rounding them to gather in the vast plaza area.

McClane takes this moment to rush up the stairwell towards the unfinished 32nd floor. With the crowds still in hysteria. The company's coke fiend ass-kisser, Ellis, unsuccessfully attempted to bring a lull to the insanity. Another round of gunfire pierces the air, finally bringing the distraught hostages to silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen"

Hans calmly addresses the crowd. His palms momentarily raised and his German accent cutting in thick. Standing atop the small platform, he repeats this line once more. Before delving into the small black book in hand. Suddenly slamming his eyes shut and a sharp hiss escaping him, as his daughter's movements intensified. Franco, the group's only other Frenchman, apart from Kristoff, takes notice.

"You alright?"

He hastily inquires, trying his best to split focus between the pained German and the sea of hostages. Hans grits his teeth briefly before uttering an agitated "fine". Flipping through another couple pages of the book.

"Due to the Nakatomi Corporation's legacy of greed around the globe. They're about to be taught a lesson in the real use of power. You will be witnesses..now...where is Mr. Takagi?"


	2. Chapter 2

Holly tightens her grip around her boss' arm.

"Joseph Yashinobo Takagi"

Hans declared, keeping his calm. And tone ominous. Weaving slowly through the crowds as he listed off Takagi's entire background. His henchmen loyally by his side. Examining the anxious faces that surrounded him.

"Vice Chairman of the Nakatomi Investment Group.."

"Enough!"

A voice from behind him piped up. The power he had hoped for behind his words falling flat. Hans smirked, turning around at the same pace, expression fairly eager.

"And father..of five"

"I'm Mr. Takagi"

The older Japanese man affirmed. He could feel his boldness slipping in the face of the intimidating German. Hans grinned slightly.

"How do you do? It's a pleasure to meet you"

With that, Takagi is whisked away by Karl. Gathering, once again, in the cramped service elevator, the group make their way towards Takagi's office. Ridding on the sliver of hope, that he held the code that could disable at least one of the safeguards on the computer. Hans marveled at the scaled models placed in orderly fashion. Coming upon the grand layout for a bridge.

"I always enjoyed to make models when I was a boy"

Their hostage kept silent. This was until hearing the German growl " _Scheiße_ " under his breath. Feeling as though his insides were being stabbed. Karl looks on concerned, Takagi hesitantly inquires what's happening.

"You never mind"

Karl snapped. No one being the least bit cognizant of McClane's presence. Hans regains his composure, throwing his arm around the lustrous chairman and leading him into the office.

"And my associate has some questions for you. Sort've fill-in-the-blanks questions, actually"

* * *

The group were getting nowhere fast with Takagi, whilst Hans' already shortened fuse was reducing to a wick.

"I told you, I don't know...you're just going to have to kill me"

Beads of sweat dripping down his face as he heard Gruber cock his pistol.

"Okay"

In the blink of an eye, the poor man was shot dead. Only this time, McClane blew his cover.

"Was war das?!"

Gruber demanded. The tensity etched on his face. Once again he sends Karl and his brother to investigate. John holds up in a small office room. His breath hitched, The siblings reconvene in Takagi's office.

"Nothing"

They inform their leader, an obvious tone of irritation woven in-between. Gruber purses his lips momentarily, slamming his eyes shut as he felt the familiar pang of Braxton Hicks contractions. The brothers appeared empathetic towards Gruber's struggles. Though wisely, remained mum.

"See to Heinrich"

* * *

Whilst Hans was with Theo, discussing the difficulty of the 7th lock. The others had already completed wiring the rooftop. John walks, almost aimlessly, throughout the 32nd floor. Hoping to find an answer soon. He then spots the sprinkler head above him, eyes traveling over towards the red handle of the fire alarm, immediately releasing an alert to go off. The flashing, red lights had caught Eddie's attention.

"We've got a fire alarm"

He radio's to Hans. However, that was the least of the German's concerns at the moment, as he felt his abdominal muscles continue to contract and wane. Once again, through gritted teeth he responds.

"Call 911, give them the guard's name and cancel the alarm. Then disable the sy.. Eddie, what floor did that alarm go off?"

John's hope rebounded once spotting the fleet of police and fire squad. However, this soon vanished once he realized they were driving past the building. His heart sank.

"No! You stupid mother fu.."

Suddenly, hearing as though someone was closing in, he immediately shuts up. Tony, with sub-machine gun at the ready, carefully surveying the crude, somewhat desolate circumference of the still unfinished floor. The sound of a table saw immediately catches the German's attention. It is here McClane is lying in wait.

* * *

It was becoming quite obvious to the terrorist leader that his daughter's birth was imminent. Forcing his mind to overcome focusing on his body's cries of pain. He inhales and exhales deeply. Sitting on the edge of a table, as standing for too long was proving taxing.

"I..wanted this to be professional. Efficient, adult cooperation, not a lot to ask. Alas, Mr. Takagi didn't see it that way. So he won't be joining us for the rest of his life.."

Suddenly, the elevator that Fritz was guarding opens, inside revealing Tony's lifeless body. A Santa hat perched atop his head, and writing scrawled in blood across his gray sweatshirt. Hans makes his way over as swiftly as his fatigued and aching body would allow. His eyes scan the crude writing, as his hands lift the fabric to read more clearly.

"I have a machine gun now.. HO..HO..HO.."

"A security guard we missed?" Fritz inquired. Grubber released his hold on the shirt in exasperation. He sighs deeply.

"They're usually tired old policemen. This' something else..Ich habe, Ich habe sie gesagt. Niemand kann sehen"

McClane watches it all unfold from the safety of a HVAC vent. Over the radio, Fritz was about to notify Karl of his brother's death, when Hans doubled over in pain. The henchman immediately became panicked.

"Soll ich einen Krankenwagen rufen?"

Gruber waved him off, his vexation mounting. He again practiced his deep breathing, hoping the contractions would ebb off.

"Nein, sie ist nicht bereit"

McClane continued to observe in silence from above. Writing the names of the ones still standing, in Sharpie down his arm. Listening to Hans' almost pained-sounding voice, he knew that tone. Striking an all too familiar cord with him. Five years prior, he was in labor with his firstborn daughter. Through all the mental and physical exhaustion, it was worth it. With somewhat of a cockeyed smirk, he scribbles in small letters _"pregnant?"_ besides Hans' name.


	3. Chapter 3

Hoping to cover more ground. Marco, Fritz, and Karl all begin a manhunt for McClane. Karl was out for blood. Unfortunately for John, his mayday for help to emergency services was also annexed by the German's walkie-talkie. Hans' eyes widen as he realizes the golden opportunity they had inadvertently stumbled across. His mouth slightly agape with surprise.

"The roof! Go! Go!"

He orders his men. One by one they depart the room, guns at the ready. Despite John's efforts, the dispatchers continued believing it was a crank call. lambasting him for using an emergency channel. Swearing until he was red in the face. Suddenly, gunfire rang out from above him. One of the woman dispatcher's soughed, to humor McClaine, however, they radioed nearby Sergent Powell to investigate. The rotund man grumbled in discontent as his hopes to rip open his bag of gas station snack cakes had been interrupted. Regardless, he decides to head over towards the Plaza.

* * *

McClane diving behind countless structures and railings of the helipad marked roof. bullets whizzing past his head. Suddenly, he spots the door leading to the ventilation fan. With absolute precision, he shoots out the latch and ducks inside. Hans' henchman follow close behind, using his pistol as a wedge, he eased himself carefully through the large blades.

Just then, he heard the metallic ping as bullets ricocheted off the metal. His foot nearly escaping injury as he heaved over on the other side. Getting to his feet swiftly, he rushes down the steel catwalk. Karl and Fritz are closing in on him. He nears a grated panel, knocking it out with the butt of his requisitioned SMG. Fritz quickly radios Hans.

"Er ist im Aufzugsschacht! Hast du mich gehört?"

"Perfect (Hans finally responds. Without warning, another contraction tore through the poor, fatigued German. He clenches his teeth through the pain.)..the police will be here soon. I can stall them, but not for long. Elevators are closed off. Lock him in and come back quickly!"

McClane braces the gun, as yet another wedge. Shimming down the shoulder strap of the elevator shaft. Meanwhile, the last of Hans' patience, strength, and sanity was being tested. As if having some rogue cop meddle in their plans wasn't bad enough. It seemed his daughter wasn't going to hold out for much longer. In fact, instinct was telling him it may very well be within the next couple hours.

McClane was about halfway down when the gun lost its holding. The man's heart leapt in his throat, feeling himself free fall briefly until he was able to thankfully cling onto the duct opening beneath it. From there, he begins his decent, feeling as though he were back home in a crowded subway, he slowly crawled along.

The commotion alerted the Germans, they race towards the floor. Karl's eyes fixed upon the air duct above him. He fires off several rounds, a bullet missing McClane by a couple inches. The blonde walks along the length of the ducting, prodding it with his muzzle of his gun. John froze, holding his breath anxiously as he continued watching through the slats in the vent. Directing his pistol downwards, ready at any moment to fire. Suddenly, Fritz rushed over to him, this in turn, thankfully pulling Karl's attention away.

He finds himself back in Takagi's office. His remnants still splattered across the glass panels and floor. He moves hastily towards the large bay window and peers down perplexed as a patrol car aimlessly circles the drive. Hans radios down to Eddie- to be ready to put on his facade as soon as he greeted the cop. As soon as he released the button, Grubber was hit with yet another merciless wave of pain. He grips the desk, trying his best to convince his brain to focus on something other than the pain.

"Evenin' officer. What can I do for ya?"

In a fruitless effort to alert the Sargent with a chair shattering the window pane. This, unfortunately, also attracted the attention of one of Gruber's sniper's on the roof. He swiftly radios Heinrich (in the midst of finishing the wiring for the explosives). He signals down to Marco.

"Achtung! Vierunddreißig! Schnell! Schnell!"

Eddie feigning interest in a football game, all-the-while keeping a watchful eye on Powell. Marco races towards the boardroom. No sooner had he stepped foot through the doorway, McClane was right there. A pistol pointed towards him, screaming to put his gun down. Caught up in the moment, but refusing to comply. He pulled the trigger. However, it was Heinrich to suffer the fatal bullet when he emerged suddenly behind his fellow henchman, Marco ducked.

Immediately scrambling up onto the zigzag row of tables. Meanwhile, back down at the lobby. Powell ceded it was nothing but a goose chase and departs. Marco cocks the automatic, firing rapid shot after shot. Plumes of wood dust explode with each round. He neared the end of the last table. Laughing madly as he reloads.

"Whaddya gonna do? You've run outta cover, asshole"

The henchman exclaimed arrogantly. John smirked and sent several rounds of hot lead through the table and ultimately, into Marco. He collapsed instantly. In a last-ditch effort to attract the Sargent's attention, McClane struggles to heave Marco's body out the broken window, onto the patrol car's hood below. It isn't long before the Plaza is swarmed with LAPD.

"All of you relax. This' just a matter of inconvenient timing, that's all. This action was inevitable"

Hans addressed the room full of hostages behind an office desk. Suddenly, he grits his teeth, feeling another wave overtake him. He rubs his stomach in a hopeful effort the baby would settle down. Turning away momentarily, speaking under his breath softly.

"Beruhigen schatz"


	4. Chapter 4

Hearing the sudden crackling of the walkie-talkie. He hastily plucks it off the desk.

"I thought I told all of you I want radio silence until further not-"

"- _Ooh sorry, Hans. I didn't get that message. Shoulda put it on the bulletin board. Since I waxed Tony, 'an Marco, and his friend here. Figured you, Karl, and Franco might be a 'lil lonely. So I wanted to give ya a call_ "

"How does he know so much about u-?" (Franco anxiously inquires).

" _Shh_ "

Hans interjected softly with a hand waving out towards the henchman. He was thankful, for the moment, at least. His endorphins had seemingly reached their peak and dampened at least some of the labor pains. However, it by no means meant they halted them completely. The _Calm before the Storm_ , as Gruber aptly labeled it.

"That's very kind of you. So you're our mysterious party guest. You're most troublesome...for a security guard"

" _EHH_ (McClane, with a mix of obnoxious and harshness. Uttered into the speaker). _sorry Hans, wrong guess. Would ya like 'tah go for Double Jeopardy where the scores can really change_?"

Whilst waiting for a response. John scours Heinrich's body for anything of value. Finding a small blue pack of foreign cigarettes. He hastily pops one between his lips and continues searching.

"Who are you th.."

The German's words are cut off suddenly by an unanticipated wave, even worse than before. Involuntarily letting out a sharp hiss, loud enough for McClane to hear.

"Oooh, sounds like labor pains, Hans. Y'know, if ya weren't holdin' 30 innocent people hostage right now. I'd call ya an ambulance"

The terrorist leader's heart leapt into his throat. How in the world did he know? McClane rummaged through Heinrich's pants pocket. Producing several detonators and a C-4 block. The German swiftly attempted to compose himself as if nothing ever happened. Turning his attention to Karl, Fritz, and Franco.

"Check on all the others. Don't use the radio, see if he's lyin' about Marco and find out if anyone else is missing!"

* * *

"Mystery guest..are you still there?"

John continued aimlessly roaming the room. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, and remaining vigilant of possible threats hidden in the shadows.

" _Yeah, I'm still here. If you wanna open the front door for me_ "

He mumbled into the radio. Gruber was inclined to prod him for answers surrounding his apparent clairvoyance in relation to his pregnancy. However, he didn't want to run the risk of exposing too much of his identity. So it was best to ignore it for the time being.

"I'm afraid not. But you have me at a loss. You know my name, but who are you? Just another American that saw too many movies as a child? Another orphan of a bankrupt culture..(he releases the button quickly. Feeling his muscles painfully contract once more. Feeling as though his teeth were soon going to be worn to the roots. He breathes in and out, slow and deep)..that thinks he's John Wayne, Rambo, Marshal Dillon?"

" _Kinda partial to Roy Rogers, actually. Really like those sequin shirts_ "

McClane responds, a certain facetiousness to his tone. If he wasn't so preoccupied with the intervals of contractions, whilst keeping a watchful eye on the hostages. He had half a mind to track the cocky New Yorker down himself and strangle him with his bare hands. But for now, he had to stay the course.

"You really think you have a chance against us, Mr. Cowboy?"

As John had his back to the door. He heard the distinct ding of the elevator on the other end. Karl and Franco would be rushing out at any moment. He opens the door leading out to the hall, a cockeyed smirk gracing his face.

" _Yippee ki-yay, mother fucker_ "

* * *

News of the hostage situation at the Plaza spread like wildfire. Stations and anchors alike, battling for the chance to reign supreme in being one of the firsts to cover it. The henchmen race towards the office room. Absolute panic etched onto their faces.

"He wasn't lyin' about Marco".. (came Karl's voice suddenly).."He's down in the street". Marco added.

"The other man was Heinrich. And his bag is missing"

Hans felt a wave of absolute dread overtake him. "The detonators!" he exclaimed, yet, with every fiber of his being, tried hiding the fear from his men. A strong kick from the baby had him impetuously gripping the arms of the chair. Truly astounded they didn't snap like a twig under the immense pressure. His mind a whirlwind, he radios Theo.

"Yo"

The nearsighted young man shouted into the device. However, making himself heard over the incessant loud drilling and shrill of the alarms, was almost as difficult as breaking into the safe itself.

"We may have a problem..how's your schedule?"

The hacker immediately references the computer screen displaying all 7 locks.

"Four down..three to go"

"Don't waste time"

No sooner was he about to set the radio back down, did they have a rare stroke of luck. Signals must have interfered, and the Sargent's voice crystal clear for the remaining terrorists to hang on. There was still hope. Fear, once again, having a death grip over Franco.

"We hafta do something! He'll ruin everything!"

Hans gives an agitated heavy sigh.

"Wait until the FBI comes. 'Til then, he can waste as much time as he likes, but..(he pauses as his nails dig deeper into cheap, black leather)..we must find the bag!"

Chaos erupting outside as police, incoming news crew vans, and SWAT litter the building. Fritz set a small TV on a nearby table. Flicking up the antenna and tuning to the latest updates from the station. Hans feverishly jots and makes alterations to work around the plan, thus, with any luck could still be executed successfully. He was so engrossed, in fact, he failed to notice Holly approach him.

"I have a request"

Without looking up. He continued with his writing. At least it gave him something else to channel the labor pains into. He growls underneath his breath.

"What idiot put you in charge?"

"You did (Hans narrowly escaping whiplash as his head snapped up)..when you murdered my boss. Now everyone is lookin' at me. Personally I'd pass on the job. I don't enjoy being this close to you"

Hans smirked and settled back in the chair.

"Go on.."

"We have a pregnant man out there..'an sitting on that rock isn't doing his back much good. So I would like permission to move him from the offices where there's a safe room"

"As am I.. he'll live..maybe"


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

_Finally! Here's the fifth and final chapter! Hope you all enjoy. And thank you for reading!_

* * *

Hans moves briskly towards the large office window. Bringing the radio up towards his lips.

"They're coming. Everyone get ready..Theo, you are the eyes now"

* * *

Eddie hurries throughout the floor. Turning the one switch to bring all security gates down. Meanwhile, Uli takes his position behind the display case. stocked with sweets. In no time flat, SWAT storm the Plaza. Their spotlights so intense, the haze from the heat could be seen in the chilly December air. Theo tracked their movements intently.

"Alright, guys. Listen up (exhaling sharply)..T'was the night before Christmas. And all through the house, not a creature was stirring...except..four assholes comin' in the rare 'an standard"

Uli gives the signal to Eddie. Thus, signaling the snipers on the roof to take the squad out. In the process, they manage to take out 2 of the high intensity spotlights. The Deputy Chief panics. Turning to the pompous SWAT leader in hopes of rational thinking.

"They're sittin' ducks out there! Get 'em back!"

"Relax (giving a haughty-like chuckle. Pressing the button on his radio) send in the car"

A blinding stream of white light fills the streets. As a heavily armored tank trudged through. The men attempting to break the entrance doors are injured with gunfire from both Uli and Eddie. Meanwhile, Alexander and his assistant, James. Swiftly transport a missile launcher towards the large bay window. Wasting no time to set it up.

"Schnell..los!"

Alexander commands. Pushing the massive wheeled crate onward. A missile is carefully set in place.

"Ja! Ich sehe ihn!"

The henchman shouts. Observing the approaching tank through a pair of binoculars. James sets his sights.

"Ready?"

The tank is now a prime target. Hung up on the Plaza's stairway entrance.

"Fire!"

The armored vehicle lit up like a Christmas tree. Exploding into a ball of fire.

"Ooooh, 'an the quarterback is toast!"

Theo gleefully proclaimed through his headset. The police left reeling. Hans carefully monitors the situation and state of the tank. Suddenly, drawing his bottom lip inward as suffers through another contraction. He takes a deep breath, exhaling somewhat shakily. Gruber holds the button on the radio.

"Hit it again"

Immediately, the line is overwhelmed by the frenzied shouting of McClane.

"Hans, you mother fucker. You made your point! Now pull back!"

The terrorist leader simply smirked.

"Thank you, Mr. Cowboy. I'll keep that under advisement. Hit it again"

Once more, the tank explodes into a raging fireball. Thinking quickly, McClane straps a brick of C4 and a computer to a wheeled office chair. Pushing it towards the cavernous shaft of the elevator.

"Geronimo, mother fucker!"

Watching as the mass plunges into the darkness. Within seconds, it had obliterated the entire floor. Blowing out windows and crumbling the infrastructures. Before long, a massive surge of flames shot up the shaft. The intense heat was enough to singe brow hair. McClane's eyes widened in shock, realizing the gravity of the situation and slight miscalculation. He jumps back just as the hellfire ripped through. Karl rushes to the office.

"They're shooting artillery at us!"

He anxiously informs Hans. The fatigued German makes his way, albeit slowly, back towards the office chair and sits down. Relieved to take at least a tiny bit of pressure off his back.

"You idiot (he scoffs) it isn't the police that are firing...it's him"

* * *

Outside, the Plaza resembled a war zone. Plumes of dust and smoke, destruction and chaos surrounding them. All the police and media could do was stand in stunned silence. However, the latter wasn't as concerned with the welfare of others, so much as they were with capturing the perfect story to sell.

"My God..tell me you got that"

As the hostages remain in their place, like an obedient herd of cattle. Holly glances over, alarmed, to see Ellis sniffling and wiping at his nose with his arm.

"What are you doing?!"

She growled under her breath.

"Tired of sittin' here, waitin' to see who gets us killed first. Them or your husband"

Holly is left annoyed and unimpressed as the sleaze tries to convince her he can strike some sort of deal with the terrorists.

"Babe, I negotiate million dollar deals for breakfast. You don't think I could handle a piece of Euro trash?"

With that, the brazen coke addict foolishly confronts the henchmen. His collar a mess and hair now disheveled.

"Hey, Sprechen sie talk?"

* * *

"If he listened to me he would've been neutralized already"

Hans exasperatedly argued with Karl. Suddenly, a sharp knock catches the Germans attention. Ellis standing in the doorway.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything"

"What does he want?"

Gruber's vexation reaching its peak. Ellis smirked and ran a hand through the messy mop of brown hair.

"It's not what I want. It's what I could give you"

Immediately, Karl turns to face Hans. His hand migrating towards the pistol at his hip. Gruber lightly shakes his head as a nonverbal cue to the henchman that the gun wasn't necessary, yet. Fritz is now the coke fiend's shadow. Machine gun at the ready, as he kept pace behind him.

Ellis ventured further into the room. Completely in a drug induced fantasy, that he was actually striking a deal with clients. The criminal side was merely an oversight.

"It's obvious you're not just some dumb schmuck here to snatch a few purses. Am I right?"

Ellis, excessively using his hands to do a majority of the talking.

"You're very astute"

Gruber responds sardonically.

"Ahh, I watch 60 Minutes 'an I say to myself. This guy's a professional, motivated..personally, I couldn't care less about your politics. Pissed off camel jockeys, Heebs, its none of my business. We're here to negotiate, right?"

"It's amazing you figured this out all on your own" (tone still dripping in sarcasm)

"Eh, its business. You use a gun, I use a fountain pen. What's the difference?"

"I must've missed 60 Minutes"

Ellis then takes a seat in front of the terrorist leader. Cracking an obnoxious grin.

"Point is. I can give him to you"

* * *

As John sat on the cold, hard ground. He retrieved the photo from his billfold. Something that truly gave him hope. Inadvertently finding himself talking, until the familiar crackling of the radio robbed him of his focus.

"That's touching, Mr. Cowboy (Hans' unabated sarcasm broke through)..or, should I say, John McClane? Of the New York police department (John's heart was now in his throat)..There's someone that wants to talk to you. A very special friend"

He then hands the walkie talkie over to Ellis.

"Heeey, Johnny"

"Ellis?"

"Now, listen, John. Gimme a few minutes to talk some sense into ya. I know you think you're doin' right. But you're just draggin' this out. Just let the LAPD handle this from here on out, capisce?"

John stood there. Stunned. Not exactly sure what to say next. He nervously inquires.

"Ellis, what did you tell them?" "That we're friends. Met at the party- "

"- Ellis, you shouldn't be doing this!"

"Tell me about it"

However, unfortunately for Ellis, the facade was slipping. Showboating would get him nowhere. Another painful contraction struck the German, only this time, his primary focus was elsewhere. It was McClane's yelling into the radio, renouncing their friendship, that sealed the fate of the arrogant addict. Fear now plastered across his face. He nervously drank the glass of Cola, as Hans smirked. Raising his pistol.

All John could do was sit there helplessly, as a sharp gunshot rang out. Panic, again erupting amongst the crowds of hostages. Hans raises the radio towards the screams. "

Hear that! (he growls) now, give me my detonators!"

* * *

"Attention police"

Hans' voice broke through. Completely catching the Chief guard. He snatches the radio from Powell.

"This' Deputy-Chief, Dwayne Roberts. Who is this?"

"This' Hans Gruber. Its obvious with your direct action against me, you wish for no further loss of life"

"Well, uh, what is it you do wish for, Mr. Gruber?"

Hans took the opportunistic moment to spin the oblivious cop a yarn.

"I have comrades in arms around the world. The following are to be released from their captors"

He proceeded in rattling off different fictional members from around the globe. As well as his plan to take the hostages to the roof and accompany them on helicopter, to the LA International Airport and await for further instructions. That should keep them busy, for the time being. He checks on Theo.

"One more to go. You better be right. This last one is gonna take a miracle"

"It's Christmas, Theo. Its a time for miracles. Call me when you've got it...preferably *before* my daughter arrives"

Despite the birth possibly within the next hour. Gruber was growing frustrated with the stagnancy. Making the bold move to take matters into his own hands. He slowly maneuvers through the narrow pathway. Shining a light in a hopeful attempt to see past the thick steam. The wires overhead, thankfully undisturbed.

Keeping his pistol by his side. Inspecting, what he now discovered, were useless severed wires. He sighs and very cautiously, eases himself down onto the roof. However, in the process of getting to his feet. Does he notice he isn't alone. Coming face to face with the barrel of an SMG.

"Hi there"

McClane smirked as the German's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Also taking note the " _hostage_ ", was heavily pregnant.

"How ya doin'?"

Once again, thinking quickly. Gruber went full theatrics. Even complete with a convincing American accent. Cowardly crawling backwards.

"No, please...God no..you're one of them, aren't you? You're one of them..uh, don't shoot. My baby, she's coming..don't shoot, please, please.."

He whimpers. Suddenly, another contraction struck without warning. Nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you!"

McClane's voice boomed. He wanted to question the distressed man further, however, that would be borderline sadistic, seeing as he was very clearly close to giving birth. He sighs heavily and sets the machine gun aside. Lowering himself and sitting back on his haunches, now both were level.

"Gonna help ya, alright? We need 'tah remove your pants so she isn't obstructed, okay?"

It was awkward and uncomfortable beyond belief. Unfortunately, he couldn't get to his pistol-as doing so would appear too conspicuous, he just had to be patient and hope it worked in his favor. Be that as it may, Gruber attempted to keep up the charade, so was not to blow his cover until absolutely necessary. The German's trousers were removed. McClane chuckled softly.

"Kinda funny. All my years on the force, this' my first time deliverin' 'ah baby..I'm John, by the way. McClane"

Hans broke from his deep breathing. He couldn't believe his luck. He begins frantically recalling the directory board.

"Clay..Bill"

With nothing to check concerning the veracity of Hans' reply. The German was in the free and clear. Another merciless contraction tore through. He slammed his eyes shut, suddenly feeling a dampness between his legs.

"Your water broke. I can see the head, just 'ah few more pushes"

Hot tears stung at his eyes, he was so exhausted. But their perfect escape was now a reality. Another contraction, furthering her along. The German grits his teeth. It was this contraction, that ultimately succeeded in passing her shoulders. He cries in agony.

"It's okay, Bill. I'm gonna grab her shoulders 'an pull her the rest of the way, alright? You just sit tight"

Wearily he nods his head. Gingerly, McClane takes hold. Delicately guiding the baby girl along until she was completely free of her father. Apart from the umbilical cord that connected them. A sudden, shrill wail of a newborn is heard.

McClane quickly bundled her in Gruber's lavish Italian suit jacket. Severing the cord with a small knife from his side pocket. Hans couldn't help but feel choked up, she was absolutely perfect.

"Congrats, Bill. She's a beaut"

McClane beamed. He brought his daughter close to his chest. Shushing her gently, delicately stroking the downy wisps of light brown hair. Finally opening her eyes, revealing a breathtaking blue. Just like her mother. Through all the death and destruction, finally holding his daughter in his arms. Melted the infamous leader's heart. Through what little energy remained, he slipped his slacks back on. Slowly getting to his feet.

"Woah, you sure about that? Ya just gave birth"

John states incredulously. Gruber gives a sharp sigh. Making his way over to the far end, near the helipad. In the process, checking to see if the pistol was still at his hip. Carefully reaching for the radio strapped to his belt.

"Das Dach. Komm sofort"

Hans signals to his remaining henchmen. Attempting to balance his newborn in one arm and aiming a loaded pistol with the other.

"Well, well, well. Hans"

John smirked.

"Give me my detonators"

The German demands. All McClane could do was laugh.

"After all I did tah help ya? This' the thanks I get?"

He responds in a wiseacre tone. Hans gives an exasperated sigh, this man was truly insufferable. He cocks the pistol.

"There is..one last thing to show my token of gratitude"

With that. He takes out McClane's kneecap. The noise triggering the newborn to start crying, as the poor cop now lie completely helpless and in agony on the cold ground.

"Mother fucker, you paralyzed me!"

"Mr. McClane, there's a small child present.. language"

He smiles down at his fussy newborn. Gently shushing her asleep.

" _Call us Santa, baby. Comin' your way with 640 mil fat sacks_!"

Theo jubilantly declares over the radio. Hans grins. This couldn't have ended more perfectly. The roar of helicopter blades whirled loudly overhead. Gruber squints towards the beam of light, walking towards the chopper.

"On second thought, McClane. Keep the detonators. They're of no use to me now"

Karl, Fritz, and Theo soon join their leader. Bags of cash being tossed into other awaiting helicopters. Karl helps Gruber aboard. The baby held protectively close to her father's chest. As Fritz and Theo board an MD, and Karl settles himself in the front.

Gruber looks over at John, one last time. Adjusting the suit to shield his daughter's tiny face from the cold. He chuckles.

"Well, McClane. It's...been fun.. Auf Wiedersehen"


End file.
